Miami

I’ve recently spent some time in Miami, a place where many a childhood memory was made. A place I recognize by smell, touch, sound. The moment you step off the plane, the air hits you, warmth creeps into your pores and you know you are somewhere the sun has kissed. Sweet envelopes the air, in bursts that hit your whole being, knocking the Eastern senses out cold. Each time it hits, nostalgia follows, a flow of the past washes over me and I feel at home. This place, this here, the sounds and aromas of this tropical spot cover me completely, each time.

What has brought me South all of these years, to vacation, be with the heat, feel at peace with sun-kissed surroundings? Family. Which in my opinion should bring you to the ends of the earth if necessary, so if it happens to land you in a place where sunshine reins, palms wave in the breeze, you are very lucky. This luck has been with me for years, and has brought me here, to my Aunt’s year in and year out. And this year, I feel as though my adulthood has followed, allowing me to put words to what traveling here conjures. What being here means and has meant. When I was young, this feeling is all I remember. Feeling ‘right’ the moment I arrived and the calm I left with. Joy was this destination of my youth, but was never described; it just was in this place. Now I know. The physical location isn’t the only thing that draws me here, keeps Miami close to my heart. The people who habitat here, along with the people that make the journey with me, those are what spark with me. Family.

It may just be the one consistent thing there is. No matter how inconsistent the relationship may be; they are linked to you, bonded by ties greater than anything material. It is where you gather strength, where you turn for comfort, to reconnect, regroup after the world has reared its ugly head. A port in the storm, where you can dry your weary bones. Miami, although I didn’t realize until much later in life, is that haven for me, and having just left, I still feel my insides glowing with warmth.

The above description of my family suites them very well. The people who have raised me are my touchstone and continue to be so. I know how lucky I am to think this and to have had the experience that led me to this conclusion. Miami has been just one of my havens. The heat of this spot has allowed imagination to take hold. Here, fire-breathing dragons roam free, allowing ankles to pass unharmed. Animals and people dine equally under this roof; chairs are pulled out for ladies, runts and cats with six toes. Family gathers under shadows of palms, with sand beneath them, and stories surrounding them. Sun filters down, scorching skin and awakening memories.

Luck has found me and has given me this port. I’ve always had it, just a plane ride away. Leaving here this last time, having almost reached adulthood, childhood memories around each corner, I feel refreshed by the splash of familiar. And I have woken each morning since, and as I think about it, for as long as I can remember, and known how lucky I am to be surrounded by the heat of family.